


Call It Magic

by teenwolf-lit (fizzingweaselbee)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, F/M, M/M, healer!stiles, teacher!Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-22
Updated: 2014-07-22
Packaged: 2018-02-09 23:23:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2002020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fizzingweaselbee/pseuds/teenwolf-lit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hogwarts AU in which Stiles is the school's Healer, and Derek is the DADA professor/Quidditch Coach</p>
            </blockquote>





	Call It Magic

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt: "hogwarts au sterek"

Stiles didn’t look over from where he was whispering to a second year Hufflepuff, he merely pointed and Derek walked to the bed the Healer had reserved for ‘Quidditch Incidences’, gently placing the Slytherin first year down, careful not to jostle him too much.

When he straightened, Stiles was walking over, the Hufflepuff girl asleep. “Don’t tell me, Derek, fell off the broom? Crashed into a Gryffindor and didn’t realise it would hurt the both of them?” he asked. “Grab that blanket, help me prop him up.” Derek did as he was told, taking the weight of the boy – Stebbins – as Stiles conjured a pillow.

“He and his friends thought they could handle a Bludger,” Derek replied through gritted teeth, watching as Stilinski gently woke Stebbins, checking his vitals before walking towards his office, Hale following behind him. “I don’t even know how they got into the damn shed. And don’t call me Derek.”

Stilinski sighed. “Look, _Professor Hale_ , more than half of the injuries I get are first through third years from your Quidditch lessons. And on match days, almost all of them are Quidditch players. Can you not teach them sense before sending them up with brooms?”

“I don’t tell them to injure themselves or each other, they just do! And last week all you were complaining about was that new Potions’ professor and her need to teach ‘overly advanced Potions to underage students’.” Derek took the bottles Stiles shoved into his hands, wordlessly returning with the Healer to Stebbins’ bed. “You can’t hate the sport that much; Scott told me you played Beater for Slytherin for four years.”

“That is neither here nor there,” Stiles said, holding up a bottle to eye level as he poured a purple mixture into a green. “Don’t you have a class to teach?”

**

“You need to stop telling me off in front of my students.” Stiles looked up to see an annoyed Derek glaring down at him, arms crossed.

Stilinski maintained the stare before cracking, smiling up at him. “Where else am I meant to discipline you, Derek?” he asked cheerily, wiggling his eyebrows. 

Derek rolled his eyes. “Somewhere it won’t undermine my position of authority would be preferable,” he replied drily. “Aren’t you meant to be doing that in the Potions rooms?” He nodded at the small cauldron bubbling on Stiles’ bed.

Stiles shrugged, narrowing his eyes at the stack of files on his desk. “Like you said earlier, I’m not a fan of Morrell.”

“Because you liked Deaton so much better,” Derek pointed out. “I won’t bail you out of trouble again, Stiles.”

Stiles’ mouth fell open before he laughed, and Derek was torn between the fond feeling in his stomach and worrying over how full the vial of unknown potion was, close to slopping over the sides as Stiles laughed.

When Stiles stopped, his mouth was still smiling widely. “You’re deluded if you think we’re not even on the rescuing front,” he said, pulling his wand out of its thigh holster and using it to cleanly slice into his forearm, ignoring Derek’s frown as he stood, walking over to the now-bubbling cauldron.

“Didn’t Deaton ban you from blood magic?” Derek asked, his tone deceptively light.

Stiles wasn’t fooled, healing the cut as quickly as he’d made it with a flick of his wand. “He said I wasn’t allowed to make any of the potions listed – this one’s my own.”

“You’re an idiot.” Stiles’ smile flattened out at Derek’s cold tone, turning his back on the Professor in a clear dismissal. Derek clenched his fists, resisting the urge to growl before he walked out, bypassing the staff room in favour of heading towards his office, slumping into his chair and glaring at the stack of essays he had to mark.

**

“Derek, Allison says she can come in next Wednesday for your seventh year class, but after that she’s busy for basically a month. Erica can come too, but Boyd’s busy,” Scott said as soon as Derek walked into the teachers’ lounge, the late night marking and snarky gargoyles already having put him in a bad mood.

He looked down in surprise when Stiles shoved a mug of Cheer-Up Coffee into his hands, Stiles’ smile fleeting before he joined Lydia and Danny, who were discussing the relationship between Runes and Arithmacy again.

“Next Wednesday would be fine, I’ll tell the class today. Maybe they’ll work harder on defensive spells when they know an Auror will be visiting,” Derek said to Scott, rubbing a hand over his eyes before taking a sip of the coffee.

Scott smiled, turning back to Isaac, and Derek half-listened to him describing the newest animal he’d found in the woods, bad mood feeling a little lighter by the time he’d finished the coffee.

“Told you it was a useful expenditure of time and resources,” Stiles said, bumping his shoulder in Derek’s as they left the staff room together, all discord from the previous night gone. 

Derek rolled his eyes, the last of his bad mood evaporating. “It does help the prospect of fifth years first lesson on a Thursday,” he conceded, and Stiles grinned.

“That’s what I made it for,” he replied cheerily. “I mean, not that specifically. People, in general, being cheered up. Not you, and your fifth years. Although fifth years are the worst to deal with, they think they know everything,” Stiles added, words flowing so quickly Derek wondered how he could move his mouth that fast.

He was still thinking of Stiles’ mouth when one of his fifth years set their friend on fire.

**

“He doesn’t know, Scott, I can’t just.” Derek coughed, and Stiles looked away from the Messenger Mirror he held. “Call you back,” he muttered, breathing on the mirror and tucking it into his shirt pocket – Derek hardly ever saw Stiles in traditional Wizarding robes; the Healer preferred Muggle clothes, claiming they were more sanitary.

Derek arched an eyebrow. “Did they lift the ban on Weasley products this year?” he asked.

“I may get mistaken for one, but I’m not actually a student,” Stiles replied with a sniff. “Besides, the Wing is totally empty tonight - New Moon and all that.”

Derek forced a smile. “I wasn’t aware students limited their accidents to more exciting times of the lunar calendar.”

“You’re very clearly not a Potions’ person,” Stiles said after studying Derek for a second, and Derek’s eyes dragged over to where the cauldron had been last, instead finding the corner of Stiles’ office empty. “Did you need anything?”

Derek looked back at Stiles, a line forming where his eyebrows furrowed. “Just checking in, you haven’t been around.”

“People are complaining we’re running low on CUC?” Stiles asked. “I could use a cup,” he murmured, and Derek, as always, pretended he couldn’t hear the almost-silent words.

Instead, he leant over and shut the book Stiles was poring over with a loud thump. “Get some sleep, Stilinski, I’ve got Sixth years, and then a Slytherin and Gryffindor third year Quidditch match tomorrow; you’ll need to be at least somewhat awake.”

“Or you could just teach them some good old-fashioned theory. Maybe demonstrate how you played Quidditch for… what team, again?” It was a long standing thing, almost a joke, that hardly any of the younger staff knew which house Derek had been in, and Stiles in particular hadn’t let it go, constantly quizzing Derek in his first two weeks of the job.

Derek’s lips tilted up at the corners. “That pitiful attempt should speak volumes. Goodnight, Stiles.”

He heard Stiles sigh as he left, and he paused outside the door to the Hospital Wing, waiting until he heard the scrape of Stiles’ desk chair before continuing his pacing of the castle, the lack of moonlight itching under his skin.

**

“Professor Hale, is that a smile?” Erica asked, and there was a moment of silence before she grinned, pushing around Allison to hug Derek. “You need to visit London more, you’re turning into a recluse at the age of 29,” she reprimanded.

Derek shrugged, nodding his greetings to Allison, who returned them before rejoining her conversation with Scott. “I do teach, Erica. Next time you have weeks of paperwork, you can come here,” he replied drily.

“Auror life isn’t nearly as glamourous as everyone made it out to be.” Erica twirled her wand around her fingers lazily, and after a minute or so of it Stiles came over.

He made a show of squinting at her left hand before grabbing it. “Why, Erica Reyes, is that an engagement ring I spotted whilst you were endangering the room, how many times have I told you not to fuck about with your wand?” he asked, and Scott and Isaac both looked over.

“It is,” Erica replied with a beam. “You’d think someone with better eyesight would have noticed it sooner.” Derek rolled his eyes at her pointed look, squashing down on the underlying guilt when Isaac looked over at him questioningly.

Instead, Derek smiled. “I’m sure you’ll think of something I can do to make it up to you,” he said drily.

“You’re going to be best man,” she replied, and Derek froze. “Don’t give me that look, Boyd and I decided it and there’s no way you’re saying no. I’d have to go with Stiles, and that would be a disaster.”

Stiles let out a yelp of disagreement, and the pair started arguing over whether Stiles would make a good or bad best man, all while Derek stood with his arms folded, waiting for them to finish.

**

“Who ended the war in 1998?” Allison asked the class.

Derek watched the ripple of dissent move through the class before a boy put his hand up. “Isn’t that History of Magic?”

“It’s a Wizarding War, kid, that means fighting, which means defending yourself. What’s the name of this class?” Derek bit down a smile at Erica’s response, watching the Ravenclaw shuffle in his seat.

Allison waited for the noise to quiet down before continuing. “Some people argue that Harry Potter was the one who ended it – he killed Voldemort, he got rid of some of the Horcruxes. But even after that, the Death Eaters kept fighting.”

“And the Aurors fought them. Are still fighting them,” Erica added. “The wars in the Middle East, guess who gets deployed to fight there? Aurors are integral, even after the big guy kicked the bucket.”

The room fell silent, and Erica’s stern face split into a grin. “Who wants to watch a duel? And if you’re lucky, and if Professor Hale here allows it, we can teach you some stuff; purely defensive, of course.”

**

“This is on Erica and Allison,” Derek said, stopping Stiles before he’d had a chance to yell. “They were meant to be supervising, I was marking in my office and I heard the ruckus.”  
Stiles’ mouth clicked shut, and he glared over Derek’s shoulder at where Allison and Erica stood, both looking suitably cowed. “Who the hell says ‘ruckus’ anymore,” he muttered, waving away the trio as he walked over to the beds where three students lay. “I need spells that you used,” he asked tiredly.

“They’ve both got a bad case of lockjaw, and Abycus is going to start morphing into some form of amphibian in the next half hour,” the Slytherin boy replied, apparently the least affected. 

Stiles sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. “Anything wrong with you?”

“Not especially, but I’ll stick around to check that Lucy’s okay?” Stiles nodded, exasperated enough not to bother giving a time limit.

When he returned to his office, the Hufflepuff girl and Slytherin boy gone, and the Ravenclaw – Abycus – slowly returning to human, he found Derek sat at his chair, leafing through his notes.

“Excuse me, Hale, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” he hissed, snatching the piles of notes and clutching them to his chest.

Derek frowned. “Are you trialling a new Wolfsbane potion?” he asked.

“No.” Derek arched an eyebrow, and Stiles sighed. “It’s more of a suppressant, okay? Like a day-to-day kind of thing.”

“Is it working?”

Stiles swallowed, eyes flicking to the clock on the wall. “It will, but one of the ingredients is kind of… difficult to come by.”

“I have a class to teach, but I’m coming back tonight. This is the stupidest thing you’ve done, Stiles, these ingredients aren’t something you can just fuck around with.” Stiles watched Derek get to his feet and leave, fingers gripping the pages so tight his knuckles were white.

He pulled out the Messenger Mirror. “Scott.” There was a pause, and the Care of Magical Creatures professor came into view. “Derek knows, he’s coming over tonight to tear me a new one. Tell Erica and Isaac,”

“He doesn’t know you know yet?” Scott asked.

Stiles shook his head. “I thought he might tell me to get this mess out of the way, but looks like that’s not an option.”

“Sorry, man. You want me to be there tonight, provide some muscle?”

The Healer sighed, slumping into his chair and kicking the floor so he spun from side to side. “Against your Alpha? Just crash at Allison’s, I get the impression Derek’s not going to be much fun.”

“He likes you, Stiles; maybe it’ll go better than you think?”

Stiles laughed. “We’ve been working together for two years – if he liked me, he would’ve told me.”

**

“Alpha blood. Alpha blood is the final ingredient, and I lied. It’s not a suppressant; it’s a mock anchor to help newly turned werewolves until they can find their own. I would’ve told you, but you haven’t actually told me yet.” Stiles shut his eyes for a second, but when he opened them Derek looked the same – angry, exasperated and, most painfully, disappointed.

The Hospital Wing was, once again, empty, and Derek’s eyes tracked over the cauldron Stiles had set up, wincing when he inhaled the vapours pouring off it. “Scott told you.”

“I was out in the woods when your Uncle bit him; I was training to be a Healer. I knew before he did! He wanted to be an Auror, but he switched his career, and then I walked in on Deaton talking to Isaac about Wolfsbane, and it wasn’t too hard to figure out the Alpha. You growl, dude, and I know your family had, like, a mutated strain of lycanthropy, so you can control the shift and stuff. I talked to Cora after a year because I realised you probably weren’t going to say anything.”

Derek’s eyes flared red, and Stiles wondered if he’d pushed too far, but instead of advancing Derek’s face closed off, the blank mask Stiles hadn’t seen in over a year. He turned without saying a word, black robes swirling around his ankles as he strode away, and Stiles collapsed onto the nearest bed, heart pounding as he watched Derek disappear down the corridor and out of sight.

**

“I will revoke our offer of best man, Derek, don’t think I won’t,” Erica hissed as she sat down next to him, yellow eyes glowing in the dark of the forest. “You like him, why are you pushing him away?”

Derek growled low in his throat, a warning, but Erica ignored it. “Everyone except him knows, Derek, so put on your big boy Alpha pants and fucking tell him. If you two are still fighting at the wedding – it’s in three months, that’s your deadline – then I will officially disown you.”

“My entire pack has been lying to me, Erica, excuse me if I’m a little angry,” Derek replied through gritted teeth.

Isaac rolled his eyes, and Derek was impressed with his nonchalance – Isaac had always been the easiest affected by pack emotions. “He’s already pack, Derek. Who do you think patches us all up after a particularly bad run? Did you think Scott just magically healed from the slicing hex that tore apart his intestine? All he needs is the Derek Hale, Alpha stamp of approval.”

**

It was past 2 am when a knock on the door dragged Stiles out of his research, and he wiped a hand over his face before standing, hoping that Melanie Pikett hadn’t started vomiting again.

He opened the door in trepidation, and was greeted by a frown. Derek shoved a vial into Stiles’ chest, and the Healer took a step back from the force of it. “Here,” Derek growled. “It’s what you need, right?”

Stiles swallowed, cautiously taking the vial filled with dark red liquid. “Yes,” he replied carefully, leaning back to set it on his desk. “Does this mean that it’s okay? Me knowing and stuff?”

“You’re pack.” Derek turned to leave, but Stiles stopped him with a hand on his shoulder, and the Alpha slowly moved to face Stiles. “What?” he asked through gritted teeth.

Stiles narrowed his eyes. “I’m just – are you sure? I know it’s a big deal, you know, I’ve been researching and-”

“I’m sure,” Derek cut him off. “Get some sleep.”

Stiles let him get to halfway down the Wing before speaking up. “Actually.” Stiles cleared his throat when his voice cracked. “I was thinking of going to the kitchens for something to eat. Wanna join?”

“Okay,” Derek replied, tapping his foot as he waited for Stiles to lock up his office and catch up with him, their long strides matching as they walked. 

Stiles grabbed Derek’s hand and tugged him into a passageway on the fifth floor, and Derek’s eyes adjusted to see he was blushing. “Sorry, this is just much quicker,” Stiles said quickly, letting go of Derek’s hand and starting uphill. Derek frowned but followed, and when Stiles pushed open a hatch to the kitchens he masked his surprise. “Magic, eh?” Derek nodded, taking a seat and watching Stiles talk to the house elves with ease, apparently a regular customer.

“So, with pack,” Stiles began once they’d both gotten slices of apple and blackberry crumble. “Do you need an emissary? Because obviously we’re all magic, and most of the folk lore I’ve found has revolved around Muggle packs. I mean, Muggle aside from the lycanthropy.”

Derek shrugged. “Not an emissary as such, but humans do hold places in packs – emissary is one of them; mates can be human, like Allison is to Scott.”

“So I would have to, uh, mate with one of you?” Stiles asked, the uptick of his heart deafening to Derek’s ears as he deliberately ignored his feelings, pushing them down. 

“Only if you wanted to.”

There was a pause, and Stiles scraped his fork against his plate, chewing his lower lip. “And, uh, if I did want to?”

“I’d tell you to try dating first,” Derek replied drily, smiling to ease some of the anxiety he could feel coming off of the Healer.

Stiles cleared his throat smiling in return. “Would you like to go to Hogsmeade this weekend, then?” he asked, and Derek froze with his fork halfway to his mouth.

“Okay,” he said, and watched the tension seep out of Stiles’ shoulders, returning the nudge Stiles gave him under the table.

**

“You look beautiful,” Derek told Erica, hands on her waist as they swayed. “Boyd’s a lucky man.”

Erica smiled back, eyes bright. “Thank you, for everything,” she replied, and Derek pulled her in for a hug, resting his chin on her head.

“Mind if we cut in?” Derek and Erica turned to see Boyd and Stiles, both clad in black robes with dark red ties. Derek let Erica go, squeezing her hand and leaning into Stiles to watch them dance. “So, best man, how’s about we dance?” Stiles asked with an eyebrow wiggle, and Derek sighed but took his hand, dragging him in to dance, bodies pressed together as the music played.


End file.
